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We can't leave; it's the last road open

You find all your ugly meanings in the things I find beautiful

Old World Underground, Where Are You Now?


I know that you do not like your reality
You know that I do not like your reality
You know that I do not like my reality
Nobody knows what it is

One can not create the truth


Poster of a Girl
by Metric

Incapable de rester toute seule
Je deteste dormir sans une présence
Les surprises semblent alléger ma solitude
Alors je ramène quelqu'un dans mon lit
Afin de découvrir comment je me sens
Comme un bébé
Portrait d'une femme
Affiche d'une fille

Me satisfaire
Eviter les novices
Ceux qui cherchent à me faire taire
Jusqu'à ce que je rentre avec l'un d'eux
Car je connais la sensation
De chercher le fil d'or
Et de ne jamais le trouver
(Coming in your pants)
Qui ne pense qu'à coucher avec une
fille d'affiche

Je sais que tu n'aimes pas ta réalité
Tu sais que je n'aime pas ta réalité
Tu sais que je n'aime pas ma réalité
Personne ne sait ce que c'est

On ne peut pas fabriquer la vérité

You find all your ugly meanings in the things I find beautiful

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Name: Wren Fletcher
Age: 21
Gender: Female
Birthday: April 9, 1986
Preferred PB: Renata Maciel
Occupation: Formerly student at Kiev International University and part-time intern in Sevastopol for marine biology over weekends. She also works part-time during the week in order to support her education. She sends home any extra money she can earn.

Appearance: Since middle school, Wren has been considered very pretty. Beautiful, even. Not quite a Barbie doll, but slim build, good proportions, and dark hair and eyes that were enough to get a few second looks or even a free drink. She still has all these things, but toward the end of her second year in college, her infection began to manifest as a skin disease. More on that under Defect.

Nowadays, she wears a lot of covering clothes and make-up in weird places. The Others will be the only ones she's comfortable being exposed with.

Personality: Not exactly studious, Wren still sees education as important. She is a mediocre student, but a passionate artist and activist. Her belief in animal rights turned her vegetarian; her environmentalist tendencies led to her marine biology major. She values will-power, and sees self-control as essential part of her identity, but is irrationally drawn to exciting and dangerous things. She likes know that whatever she's doing is ethically correct, and is willing to make sacrifices so that the Good Thing gets done. Wren isn't especially religious, but she's highly moral with a strong (sometimes blinding) sense of ethics.

Wren comes from Toronto, Canada, one of the few major cities in North America still relatively untouched by the first plague. Her mother is an artist herself, and supportive of her oldest daughter's decision to go to school so very far away. Her father lives apart from the rest of the family due to his work, but Wren saw a great deal of him while growing up, and looks up to him. He and her mother are still very much in live in spite of their distance, but his relationship with Wren's two younger siblings is not so close. Wren's sister Robin (12) and brother Jay (14) are her joy, and when she follows her father's example of writing home regularly, she's usually thinking of them. However, also like her father, she rarely calls and never visits.

Ready to be independent, Wren's decision to go to Kiev International University was based as much on its exotic appeal as practical reasons. Although Kiev was far, by the time Wren was applying for schools, she wanted to be off and away. A family friend helped secure her a waiting internship just to the south of the city, in Sevastopol. She was likely infected while working there, exposed to a series of unknown pollutants.

Her social life at the new school wasn't as booming as back at home, but she made friends with a number of artist-types and got along fine. When her disease began to manifest, her impromptu solution was to wear more covering clothes and find less public work. It's probably a character note that it doesn't even occur to her to tell her family; her letters are still truthful, but now they omit daily details. To her father, she has mentioned a few things, but still not everything.

Wren's defect has given her a new appreciation for her sense of touch, and also a strong sense of body-consciousness. She's also developed an instinctive mistrust of sunlight. Lurking is now the thing to do, and is only willing to step into metaphorical (and literal) spotlights in order to push for her causes. .... Randomly, she's also gotten really good at painting flesh-tones, and she will continue her art, even as she takes some time off from school.

Wren has never needed to know how to use a weapon before, and the closest she’s ever gotten to handling a real gun was a paintball-gatling four years ago. She was decent as far as aim went, so long as she remembered not to get too excited. (Assume that in the case of an attack where she actually has access to a firearm, she will be rather excited.) She has a pocket knife which pretty useless, except maybe for sharpening pencils, but in elementary school she once stabbed a boy with a pencil.

Her infection provides her with natural defenses in the form of quick healing/regeneration (if she's eaten) and unusually resilient skin. Usually, cuts won’t hurt or bleed, but if they’re deep enough or if she’s sensitive at the moment, it's not a good thing.

Alliance: Wren is an Other but she’s new to the business. No information yet as to where she will fit, but based on her personality and convictions, she might end up as a moral compass and/or propagandist. If she ever gets over the murder thing, I see a future Reg Shoe in her. (:

Extra: IDK.

Physical/Mental Defect:
Under direct light, especially sunlight, Wren's skin gives off an unnatural waxy sheen similar to the sort of shine you get off of plastics or resin. It grows stiff and numb and cold. Around the joints, there are sometimes tiny fissures or even chips, like minute cracks in an old painted wall.

If she eats properly, these tiny wounds bleed but then heal remarkably fast. If she doesn't, they just keep spreading until whole chunks of her are falling off like a drying clay figurine. She's usually hard and dry to the touch, but under certain conditions, her pores will ooze a clear mucus film that is protective and physically a relief, but still pretty disgusting.

I mean, unless you're into that kind of thing.
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